Fight To Live
by The Hermione Granger Fan Club
Summary: Max's experiences whilst living with Lucy and her father.


At first glance, Max could tell her new home was a rathole. The girl Lucy Arnold helped her with her backpack unnecessarily and gave her a sympathetic look when her dad smacked Max upside the head for dawdling on the sidewalk.   
  
Max inhaled a deep stench of alcohol and cigarettes as she stepped into the front hall. She stared around and gave Lucy a look of slow thought as Lucy pulled her backpack from her arms and carried it into a room.   
  
"I'll start dinner in a sec, Dad!" called Lucy, and shut the door as Max entered her room.   
  
Lucy seemed quiet to Max. "So do you have a nickname you like? Max... that's a pretty cool name."  
  
Max blinked. "My siblings called me Maxie sometimes."  
  
"That's cute. My friends call me Luce. You can call me that if you want. Oh... you don't have many clothes." Lucy had already started unpacking Max's things for her in an achingly motherly way... not that Max remembered any sort of mother figure, but her matriarchal way of going about things reminded Max strongly of Tinga.   
  
"No. Sweatshirt, two t-shirts, a pair of jeans, socks, sneakers, underwear and nightclothes. They said you'd get the money for new clothes, nicer clothes."  
  
Lucy gave a bitter laugh. "Forget it. You'll never get anything out of the money they pay us for taking you in. Dad'll spend it. Never mind, though. I still have some clothes somewhere that might fit you. I sold most of my clothes a few months ago, but I have some skirts and pants and stuff from when I was about your age. You can have those."  
  
Max did not reply, instead she crossed the room to inspect Lucy's posters. "Why do you have those on the wall?"  
  
"To cover up the ugly wallpaper. No such luck in your room, I'm afraid. I'll get you some pictures soon, OK? You want anything in particular... Maxie?" She seemed hesitant to use Max's nickname.   
  
"I have my own room?"  
  
"It's tiny. The guestroom. Not that we ever have any guests. Dad uses it to house his ladyfriends occasionally."  
  
"I didn't have my own room where I came from."  
  
"Who did you share with?"  
  
"Brothers and sisters. Lots of them. Jondy and I would stay up and talk, and sometimes Eva would come. Jace would try to sleep- Jace didn't like to get in trouble. Ben would tell us stories."  
  
"Where is your family now?"  
  
A look of bitter sadness took Max's face. "I haven't seen any of them in a long time. We were separated. Some are dead. Eva and Danny both got shot. Syl accidentally shot Danny. Jack died from... epilepsy," she said, remembering herself.   
  
"I'm sorry. It must have been awful for you," said Lucy, patting Max's hand. "So your sister Syl got hold of your parents' gun or something?"  
  
"No parents. Just my brothers and sisters and me. I am the youngest sister."  
  
Parents. That was a word she hadn't known until a few months ago. Mother. Father. People on the Outside made such a big deal out of kids wanting to know where they came from, and yet it had never crossed Max's mind. She KNEW where she came from. There was nothing mysterious about it. She had been created in a test tube in the lab third door to the left of the infirmary.   
  
"You can tell me about them over dinner. How about that? I'll make you anything you want."  
  
"Anything I want?" repeated Max.   
  
"Well. Not anything you want. More like anything you want out of our fridge. Pizza OK with you? Microwave pizza? Or tacos?"  
  
"Pizza is fine. I have a strong stomach."  
  
Max had been trying to reassure Lucy but she gave her a little push. "Thanks!" she laughed.   
  
Lucy's dad yelled from the living room. "Lucy, when the hell are you gonna start dinner?"  
  
"I'm just getting Max settled, Dad!" answered Lucy.   
  
"Screw Max, the game starts in an hour!"  
  
"All right. Are you OK with microwave pizza, Dad?"  
  
"Sure, whatever!"  
  
Lucy turned to Max ruefully. "Sometimes I ask why the hell he doesn't just get remarried so I can be a normal teenager... not be at his beck and call. C'mon, come and help me with dinner."  
  
Sometime later, the two girls sat at a slightly broken kitchen table eating microwave pizza. "You ever had pizza before, Max?" asked Lucy in concern as Max gingerly nibbled along the edges of her slice.   
  
"Only a couple of times."  
  
"All right... your hair's going to be real nice when it gets longer, Max. I can trim it for you. I used to do it for my friends when they came over. It's kind of hard to do it for myself, but anyway- I'm glad you're here, Max." Lucy stood up and dug an icepack out of the freezer, taping it to a large, purpling bruise on her wrist.   
  
"Why?" asked Max in bewilderment.   
  
"I always wanted a little sister. Or an older sister. Or a brother. Whatever. Point is... there's just a couple of rules you have to abide by."  
  
Max glowered, pizza halfway to her mouth. "I don't like rules."  
  
"You'd better like my rules, then," countered Lucy. "Number One- keep your voice down when Dad's home. Number Two- try not to let the house get dirty. Dad doesn't like me to make the house dirty. That's his job. And Number Three- always be civil to Dad, keep out of his way and don't ask for money- just steal it out of his wallet."  
  
"OK," answered Max, unperturbed, and took a bite of lukewarm pizza. Not bad.   
  
They went to bed early. Max took a hot shower and changed into pyjamas. She was sitting on her bed, staring out the window.   
  
"OK, Max, it's time to go to sleep. C'mon, under the covers."  
  
Something scared Max about this house. The rules... "Lucy, stay with me," she pleaded, but Lucy's dad appeared at the door.   
  
"I'll come later," she said, and left.  
  
Max did as Lucy said and burrowed under the covers. She'd rarely felt so miserable.   
  
* * *   
  
"Max! Oh my God!"  
  
Lucy gaped at the sight of her foster sister twitching and convulsing on the floor. A short way away was a shattered glass, a nearly empty carton and a growing puddle of milk.   
  
"DAD! Dad, where are you?" Lucy marched through the house and looked through the front door. The car was gone.   
  
She hurtled through the house, back to Max. "Max, can you hear me?"  
  
Max seized violently and did not reply.   
  
"Shit- Max, say something!" She pulled Max, whose hair and nightclothes were dripping milk, from the floor and yanked her arm around her shoulders. She had to drag Max to the living room and dump her in an armchair, where she desperately checked for cuts from the broken glass.  
  
Lucy felt tears pricking at her eyes and struggled to force them away. "Say something. Oh, God... Max."  
  
Max seemed to be struggling to say something.   
  
"What was that? Please, tell me you're OK."  
  
"Milk," Max managed to stammer. "Milk."  
  
"Yeah, I can see that. Max, you should have told us you have epilepsy like your brother! Do you have medicine or something?"   
  
"Bed," slurred Max. "Put... me to bed."  
  
"Then what?"  
  
"Wait awhile. Goes away... always does."  
  
Lucy looked at the younger girl fretfully. "Are you sure?"  
  
"Milk. I need some."  
  
Confused, Lucy asked why.   
  
"It's got... Tryptophan in it. Makes m-me better."   
  
Lucy helped Max to her bed and dropped her onto it, wincing as Max bounced slightly, reduced to helplessness. Lucy pulled her up to rest her head on the pillows and tucked the blankets around her.   
  
She jogged to get Max a glass of milk. Max snatched it from her hands and drained it in seconds, then slumped to the pillows, exhausted.   
  
Lucy picked up Max's hand. She couldn't believe this. The first morning Max had ever lived in her house, she'd neglected her and this had happened... well, it wasn't really a case of neglect...  
  
"What happened, Max?"  
  
"Got a seizure in the night," said Max tiredly. "I went to get some milk and sit down. If I'd drank from the carton I probably would have made it back to bed. I was pouring out a glass and knocked everything down when I fell." She saw how scared Lucy looked. "Really. It's not that bad. Lots of my family gets seizures. Jack got them... my big brother Zack gets them... lots of us. It's in the genes."  
  
"I never heard a nine-year-old talk about genes before. I'd better go and clean up before Dad comes back."  
  
Max realised how tense she was and tried to relax her body. "When will that be?"  
  
"Depends. A couple of hours, a few days."  
  
"A few days would be good. Then you can show me around the neighbourhood."  
  
"Oh, no. Today you're staying in bed."  
  
"All DAY?" wailed Max, giving a twitch.   
  
"It's not that long. I'll keep you company."  
  
She left to clean up the mess and returned with an armful of clothes. "Here you go. I knew these were somewhere." Lucy put them in Max's lap.   
  
Max picked up a t-shirt with a cartoon character on it. "New clothes."  
  
"Not exactly new," said Lucy, embarrassed. "They're, like, the 1990's. They belonged to one of my mom's sisters."   
  
Max gazed at her thoughtfully. "I've never known anyone your size before."  
  
"Well, how old are your brothers and sisters? The scale you talk about them, I should think a couple would be in their twenties by now."  
  
Max propped herself up and shook her head. "No. Zack is eleven. He is the oldest. I am the youngest. Everyone else is between us." She paused. "I miss them."  
  
Lucy did not comment on this bizarre age range and climbed onto Max's bed. "Max, you should know something about my dad."  
  
Max said nothing.   
  
"He... hurts me. He'll try and hurt you too, before long. You'll be scared of him, you'll most likely cry... a lot... but I've lived alone with him for almost my entire life. I'll show you how to make the best of things."  
  
"I don't cry," Max said stoically.   
  
"I didn't want to take in a foster child. Even when Dad had made his mind up, I begged him to take a boy. Dad never listens to me. He picked you... he picked you because you were the prettiest little girl in the place." Lucy did not smile as she said this.   
  
"I'll fight him for you, Lucy," volunteered Max. "Where I come from, you have to fight to live."  
  
"Not possible. Besides, you're only a nine-year-old. Kids can't ever do anything."  
  
Max seemed to process this. "You're sure?"  
  
"Positive. Stay out of his way, Maxie."  
  
* * *   
  
Mr Arnold did not return until the following afternoon. Lucy and Max had raided his wallet and gone for supplies. Max thought this to be a very Manticore-like existence- raids, tactical manoeuvres, even Escape and Evade. Well. Lucy's dad had realised that twenty dollars was missing from his 'cash stash'. Lucy had told Max to run.   
  
Max was tired of running. She didn't like rules, or orders, but had to listen to Lucy because, in a sense, Lucy was the temporary CO. Lucy knew the territory, knew the enemy. Although Max was slowly gaining independence, she still listened to the most reasonable adults she could find. Since there were no reasonable adults, she had to listen to Lucy.   
  
Just like with Zack...  
  
Mr Arnold entered the kitchen. "Dad, I can explain-" she began.   
  
"You little bitch," he said, and started towards her.   
  
"Dad, I took Max for a walk around the neighbourhood today. When we came back, your money was missing. We didn't know how to tell you in case you overreacted..."  
  
Both girls stood stock-still. Max considered throwing him through the wall... it wouldn't be that difficult for her... but remembered.  
  
'Stay out of his way, Maxie.'  
  
'You engage an adversary only if it is consistent with the overall strategic objective. Failing that, you will initiate a tactical withdrawal.'  
  
Who was right? Max had a feeling everyone was but her.  
  
Mr Arnold got in her face- just like the TAC leaders had used to do. "Can you tell me what happened, Max?"   
  
"Run," Lucy hissed out of the side of her mouth.   
  
"It was just like she said, Mr Arnold. She wanted to tell you when you got home, but I thought it would be better not to."  
  
"Run," Lucy murmured again, more urgently this time.   
  
He slapped Max in the face. She could feel her eye stinging and knew she was going to get a shiner. She wasn't fussed. The bruising would go down in a few hours. Bruises and broken teeth were no problem for X5s, who could regenerate them within the day.   
  
Why was she so afraid, then?  
  
Max stood her ground, and both Mr Arnold and his daughter looked amazed at the fact that the blow hadn't sent her sprawling to the floor. Honestly. Jack's punches had been better than his.   
  
Don't speak ill of the dead, Max, her brain automatically intervened.   
  
"Run!" shrieked Lucy, and both girls bolted for the door. Max was miles ahead and shot up the first tree she saw- a big one in the backyard.   
  
She watched forlornly as Lucy's dad dragged her back inside the house. Max stayed in the tree a long time.  
  
This was a high place, she realised. A very high place...  
  
A new Manticore, a new CO, a new enemy. Would the Blue Lady's kindness extend beyond the perimeter fence back at the facility?  
  
Max extracted one of her back teeth and tasted blood as she placed it in the crook of a tree branch. "Keep Lucy and me safe from the Nomalies, ma'am. We're both very good soldiers."  
  
* * *   
  
A few months passed. Max's hair grew still longer, and she grew to hate Mr Arnold and to very much like his daughter. Lucy always kept her promises. She trimmed Max's ragged bob of hair as best she could, assuring Max that it looked, "Very cool.", she tried to make Max's room as homey as possible and helped Max with schoolwork. Max was used to attending school, martial arts training, doctor checkups and mission briefings all in the same building, but couldn't help but notice that other children and teenagers in the neighbourhood left on a schoolbus each weekday morning for their education.   
  
"I'm home schooled," Lucy explained, going over the multiplication tables with her foster sister. "I have been since Mom died. OK, Max, now recite the five times table."  
  
Max had memorised the five times table before she'd been able to talk, but also noticed that children her age often needed guidance when learning. She tried to get things seen as, "... really hard..." by Lucy purposely wrong. That way, she looked like a normal nine-year-old girl.   
  
"Lucy, I'm bored. Can we go for a walk?"  
  
"We already went for a walk today, Maxie."  
  
"Can I go for a walk?"  
  
"If you like," shrugged Lucy. "I have to catch up with studying anyway." She searched her jeans pocket and came up with a crumpled bill. "Go and get yourself something good to eat. Have it in the park, I used to like doing that when I was younger."  
  
Max took the money and left the house, going to the corner store. It sold magazines, candy, cigarettes and assorted things that the average suburbian couldn't live without. Two women sat behind the counter, glaring at Max, who they knew as, "... the quiet kid that Arnold girl is always dragging around."  
  
Max boredly picked up a women's magazine and flipped through it, scanning the pages and committing the relevant gibberish to memory.   
  
"This isn't a library, Arnold Kid," said one in a gravelly voice. She stubbed out her cigarette on the counter. "Buy what you need and get out." Max glared at her and decided not to explain that she was not a relative of Lucy's family. Just their ward, she thought bitterly.   
  
Max bought a health food bar and a bottle of orange juice. Lucy HAD said, "Get something good to eat." In Manticore, 'good' food meant 'healthy' food even if it was 'disgusting' food. Like Jondy. Jondy despised meat of all kinds, especially chicken. Although she had no problems with snapping the necks of people, Jondy had never been able to look at a chicken cutlet again after she and Brin had had a long and involved discussion with a chicken in a pen behind the kitchens.   
  
They'd heard someone coming, and it had clicked for Jondy that their intentions for her new friend were not exactly honourable. She'd tried to liberate the chicken and had been thrown into psy-ops for a fortnight.   
  
Max downed orange juice on a park bench. It wasn't much of a park. It had originally been a building site for yet another ugly semi-detached house, but construction funds had fallen through. Faced with a routine block of land, the council had turned it into an Astro Turf-ed, fenced off piece of nothing with a small slide, a bench and four spindly trees. It looked especially odd with an identical house of either side.   
  
Presently, Lucy happened along with two textbooks under her arm- 'Advanced Calculus' and 'Running A Business From Home'. "I got bored of studying too."  
  
"I figured."  
  
"Hey, Max... you do like me, right?"  
  
Max thought she had made that perfectly clear. "Yes, I do." She decided to elaborate. "You're a good big sister, Lucy."  
  
Lucy smiled. "Thanks, Max. Do you like my dad?"  
  
"No."   
  
"Me neither."  
  
Max wondered why Lucy wasn't sure if she liked her or not. Perhaps you showed it different ways on the Outside. Like, everyone knew that Tinga liked Ben because she always memorised every detail of his stories and could remember the most obscure parts if asked. She even used his words. Krit and Syl liked each other because they always finished each other's sentences, and Syl was the only X5 who ever dared to give Krit a hug. It wasn't that he hated being touched... just disliked it. But hugs just weren't done in Manticore.   
  
Amna liked Omri because she always wanted him to be warm, and comfortable, and took the blame whenever he did something wrong. Jace liked Eva because Eva was always nice to her. Eva had never shoved Jace, or called her the Colonel's pet, or played practical jokes on her. Eva was the only one who would ever ask Jace to sit with them during Ben's stories, or ever showed her even the slightest kind of affection. In return, Jace had practically never told on Eva to the Colonel, or snapped at her.   
  
Jondy liked Max because she always wanted to be around her, always paired with her for training, always sat beside her in the mess hall. And Max liked Jondy because she did the same things. They had private jokes, secret handshakes and even made-up words. Mostly mispronounced, everyone knew what they were, because X5s were experts at anagrams. So once when they were giggling about Caje and her ridiculousness, Jace had stormed up behind them and punched Jondy in the back of the head. That was the night they had quit using their made-up words around the others.   
  
She'd loved all of them. Did she love Lucy? Max honestly didn't know.  
  
"We could escape your dad, you know," said Max.   
  
"That's impossible."  
  
"It isn't. I'm an expert at running away. It's easy."  
  
"You don't know anything." Lucy had never said anything this cold to her foster sister. She looked away unhappily.   
  
Max gave Lucy a little shake. "Lucy. Listen to me. If I can crash through a plate glass window, fall through thin ice, run in the snow eight days wearing my pyjamas without shoes and lie in a ditch having seizures for two, chance are I'll be able to catch a train with you out of the city without much trouble. I told you- I'm an expert."  
  
Lucy gave her a very odd look. "You're saying all that stuff really did happen to you?"  
  
"Don't ask questions. So how about it? You gonna run away with me?"  
  
"I tried running away when I was twelve. In the rain. On my bike. I skidded and fractured my ankle. Dad found me, broke my arm, took me to hospital and told me if I didn't tell them my injuries were accidents, or if I ran away again, he'd kill me."  
  
Max became steely. "If you won't come with me, I'll just run away without you."  
  
"You wouldn't."  
  
"I would."  
  
That night, Max was once again helpless with seizures. Lucy sat on her bed dabbing at Max's searing forehead, ignoring her father's calls.   
  
"You need some more milk, Maxie?"  
  
"D-Don't leave me..." muttered Max. "Don't go... to him."  
  
"LUCY!" called Mr Arnold.   
  
She reached up to touch Lucy's face, to make sure she was still there. Her telescopic vision was going haywire, zooming in on the weirdest things and making her think the ceiling was caving in. She remembered when Tinga or Eva or Amna would sit with her in the dark.   
  
Lucy glanced toward the door.   
  
"Please..." said Max.   
  
The door opened. Lucy stood up and left with her father.   
  
Slowly, Max felt her seizures die down. She was alone.   
  
She felt angry and alone and betrayed. Shaking a little with cold and feeling ready to throw up, she climbed out of bed. Right. So Lucy didn't care about keeping her safe? About keeping herself safe? She wasn't CO material. She wasn't a good big sister. Lucy was afraid. She was to be defied.   
  
Max had never had these thoughts before, but she was angry. She dressed, stole all the money she could find and packed her few belongings in her backpack.   
  
And she stood at the door, ready to leave and heard someone behind her. Max turned slowly, ready to kick out if necessary, but saw Lucy standing there. Her eyes were red, her nightdress buttoned oddly. She stood like a frightened child, hugging herself against the cold. "Max?"  
  
Max didn't answer.   
  
"Please don't leave me."  
  
Max thought of all sorts of things to throw in the girl's face. She left you, her brain hissed at her. She's not a good person. She didn't try hard enough.   
  
Lucy began to cry. "I know you don't deserve to be here. I know it's scary. But please... don't leave me here alone with him. I'll try harder to protect you. Don't leave."  
  
Max stood still a moment. Every logical part of her body and brain was snarling at her to open the door and run off. Run away. Run away. Leave her like she left you.   
  
Max hesitated and put down her backpack. Lucy's eyes were downcast as she sobbed. Slowly, Max inched forward and hugged her.   
  
Lucy held Max tightly, and Max could feel her tears in her hair. She wanted to leave, but she didn't want to be alone again.   
  
* * *   
  
Escape and Evade again. Max crouched under the stairs to the basement with Lucy. There were no Nomalies down here. The only Nomaly in the house was upstairs.   
  
"It's cold." That was an understatement. The dampness of the freezing concrete wall soaked right through the back of Max's sweater. Lucy and Max had been enjoying themselves reading magazines before Mr Arnold had come home.   
  
Lucy had improved even more as a CO, but she was still afraid. She'd grabbed Max's hand and they had fled downstairs, diving under the staircase. Max was thankful she hadn't opted for a t-shirt and shorts that morning.   
  
A small light over the washer and drier across the room flickered off.   
  
"Light must've burned out," said Lucy unnecessarily.   
  
"Mmm," said Max.   
  
Then came the yell from upstairs. "Hey, you kids out here?"  
  
Max felt Lucy cringe beside her.   
  
"WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?" he boomed, and they heard him searching upstairs. His beer-addled swearing mixed with nonsensical mutters was getting closer and closer.   
  
Lucy was very tense. "Game's gone out. He'll be looking for someone to blame it on."  
  
His form appeared on the stairs. Max remembered ambushing exercises in the Manticore woods. She loosened up her body, closing her eyes. Every instinct in her was telling her to run.   
  
She lost her cool. Max jumped up and shot from underneath the stairs as if fired from a gun. She stopped suddenly as he loomed ahead.   
  
"MAX!" screamed Lucy. "Max, NO!"  
  
She scrambled from their hiding place too, ready to fight for Max. Max neatly dodged Mr Arnold and was running, up the stairs, through the house and through the front door, which she left banging open. She jumped the stairs off the porch and pounded down the street, running like the leaders had told her to- head high, legs never stopping.   
  
Max stopped. She turned around and hesitated. The neighbourhood was very black, even for night. She could hear yelling and crashes coming from the Arnold home, and briefly considered going back. Fighting.   
  
Once again, she ran, leaving Lucy to her father's mercy. She tried to convince herself that what she'd done was right, but remembered Lucy's loving care, no questions asked.  
  
It would be a long time before Max would ever know that kind of unity again.   
  
* * * * *   
  
DISCLAIMER: 'Dark Angel' belongs to James Cameron and Fox. Not me. So don't sue. 


End file.
